


Whumptober 2k19 - And All Shall Suffer

by Rawr948



Category: Gravity Falls, Original Work
Genre: Abandonment, Angst, Anxiety, Captivity, Choking, Dehumanization, F/F, F/M, Gen, Genetically Engineered Beings, He just has a human body really, Humanish Bill Cipher, I hurt my babs a lot my dudes, Implied Forced Pregnancy, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Mafia AU, Mayan/Aztec hatred, Mind Control, Minor Injuries, Multi, Nightmares, Older Dipper Pines, Serious Injuries, This is mostly original characters, Threats, Threats of Violence, Will add more tags as I see fit, but not the focus of the fics, dude's still a demon, eventually, forced body modification, forcing someone to hurt their loved one, genetically modified beings, i suppose you can call this discrimination based on culture/ethnicity, implied/referenced saling of a human child, its okay they get better, maybe some comfort, my skyrim character, no beta we die like men, or rather a demigod, poisoning of a character to hurt another, some are alternative versions of canon characters, some aren't mine, sometimes, we'll see how this goes, whumptober 2k19
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2020-11-16 14:22:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 19,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20839427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rawr948/pseuds/Rawr948
Summary: I'm attempting this again! Hopefully I actually finish it, but we'll see how things go





	1. Shaky Hands - Day 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens when you mix exhaustion with overworking and caffeinated potion drinking?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will post notes for my babs here.
> 
> This is Marcus, my Hogwarts Professor.  
He is a workaholic, lover of sweets, a Slytherin, and the DADA professor.

He felt it during his first lesson. A sensation of not right. He ignored it and continued on with his class, teaching the fourth years about the spell of the week. They were beginning duels soon, he had to make sure they were prepared to defend themselves properly. Not to whatever silly standards the Ministry found acceptable. What did they know anyway, bunch of desk workers.

He noticed it again when he was with his seventh years. They were practicing some basic offensive spells, a refresher from the beginning of the school year. He had tried to do a spell, but he couldn't keep his hand steady. 

Frowning, he quickly did the practiced movements of a fire spell. It was weak, not as clean as most of his spell work was, but he didn't dwell on it. Just continued class as usual. He could deal with it later.

Later came far too soon, in Marcus' opinion. Classes were over for the day and he was seated at his desk, large stacks of paperwork on either side of him. He sighed as he relaxed, feeling the tension in his body bleed out and tiredness set heavily on his limbs. He blinked slowly, watching his hands as slight tremors went through them. He knew why his hands were shaking, why he was so exhausted. 

"It's time for another one," he murmured to himself. He reached toward his final drawer with his wand out, feeling as if he was swimming through a thick, viscous liquid. It was off-putting, but he was used to it by now. "A few seconds, just a few more seconds."

He tapped the drawer three times, saying the unlocking charm under his breath.

Once it was unlocked, he opened it. Several vials of a bright red liquid filled it. The vials weren't small, but not too big either. They were smooth and round with a cylindrical neck. A cork sat snugly at the opening of each one. 

He was about to reach for one when his vision became blurry and dizziness overtook him.

His hands were shaking even harder now, but he reached out to grab at his desk's edge in hopes of steadying himself. 

"D-D-Dee-...Deep b-breaths," he whispered to himself, sucking air in through his mouth. He held it for a few seconds before letting it out all at once. His eyelids closed without his permission, and when he opened them again, everything was still hazy. Wrong.

He was too late, the exhaustion was too overwhelming. He could feel his consciousness slipping. 

He heard a faraway creak of his door just as he felt the world tilting sideways. A voice sounded around him. He knew who it was. Or he thought he did, right now he couldn't remember much. Too tired. Sleepy. He could listen later. 

And then darkness.

  
  


Blake had come to check up on Marcus. It was late and he hadn't seen the other professor at the Great hall. Yvette seemed to wonder about him as well, frowning each time she looked over to his empty seat.

So he had gone to look for the missing defense against the dark arts professor.

He had checked the classroom first, but when no one answered him he was about to leave. At least until he heard the soft mutterings of a spell. Curious, Blake opened the door a crack and saw Marcus.

The sight that created him was an odd one. Stacks on stacks of paperwork filled his desk. Marcus, who sported a slight tan, was far too pale. He looked sick, dark circles like bruises under his eyes. 

And then he saw the other start listing to the side. His body slumped and Blake knew what was about to happen.

"Marcus!" He called out, swinging the door opened all the way as he ran down the classroom to Marcus' desk.

He was too late to stop him from falling, the soft  _ thud _ of a body hitting the floor proving it. He didn't stop though. Not until he reached him.

What greeted him had Blake frowning. In the bottom of one of Marcus' drawers were rows upon rows of potions. "What the...?" What was Marcus doing with so many of them? What were they?

A groan shook him out of his thoughts. He focused on Marcus, his form crumpled on the stone floor. Without wasting a second he went over and lifted up his sleeve. Placing two fingers on Marcus' wrist, he checked for a pulse and found one. Relieved that the other professor wasn't in mortal danger, went back to the drawer. Something told him this potion, whatever it was, was the reason for this.

Grabbing a bottle, he uncorked it and dipped a finger in. Tasting it, he could feel the sweetness of a pepper up potion. "...how many have you been drinking?" He wondered, eyes going back to Marcus. He then looked up at the papers and started to sift through them.

Most of them weren't his. Of those that were, only half of them were homework. The rest were files for the wizarding council.

"What the hell?" He murmured.

Before he could read one of those files, Marcus groaned again. 

"What happened?" He croaked, slowly sitting up. He rubbed where he hit his head and Blake felt a little bad for not checking there. But that went away rather quickly.

"You fainted. From overworking and exhaustion, by the looks of things."

Marcus sucked in a sharp breath wide brown eyes looking up into blue and green. He opened his mouth to defend himself, but nothing came out. He was too stunned to do so.

Blake watched him struggle with words for a few seconds, only for the other to look away. He felt a little bad for what he was about to do, but he had to ask.

"How many days have you been awake?" How many of these had he drank.

"....Not enough."


	2. Touch-Starved - Day 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation between lovers of the past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This involves Lucian, my oc, and Deliah, my other oc.  
Had been friends since birth, up until Deliah moved away, leaving Lucian to his abusive family. Lucian and Deliah were born in Egypt. Lucian's is from Egypt, he just changed his name. Deliah's is Irish. Lucian's family decided to stay though, while Deliah's moved to China.

He snuggled up to her, arms wrapped around her waist loosely. He felt warm, content. 

A soft chuckle left her and he hummed softly, tilting his head up in her direction. His eyes were closed and they opened a sliver to catch a peek at her. 

"You're like a puppy," she said, tone soft. She sounded amused, but he thought he heard a hint of fondness too. "It's fitting I guess, my Anubis."

Lucian could feel his cheeks heat up and he buried his head in her stomach. The soft laughter that followed made him blush harder. "Anubis is a god…" he said lamely.

"Yes, and?" She asked, a playful note to her voice. 

He knew she was teasing him, but also knew she meant it. He didn't agree, couldn't. Not after all the stuff he had done. The things he will still occasi-

"I can hear your thoughts, stop it." It was more of a command than a statement, yet it was still soft. Kind. She started to pet his head, running calloused fingers through inky black hair. He let out a low whine in response.

Deliah paused for a second, before she continued. Her other hand moved to rub at his back. It moved in small circles, soothing him.

"Hush, Luci," she said, voice so soft it came out as a whisper. "I'm here for you, you deserve this. You're good."

"But -"

"No." Lucian's jaw shut with an audible  _ click _ . Deliah had paused her movements, both hands sliding smoothly along the skin of his face. They cupped his cheeks with both hands and pulled his face up from his hiding spot. "Look at me Lucian." Another command, just as soft as before. "Please."

That was enough for his eyelids to open, dark brown eyes meeting hazel. Unconsciously, he pressed his cheek against her left hand more. Wanting, no,  _ needing _ more contact.

Pleased by this, Deliah smiled. It was such a rare sight. He distantly felt her thumb rub small circles on his cheek and he pressed closer to the contact. To the comfort she offered. He drank her touch up like a man parched.

"You aren't your past. You did what you needed to survive." She brushed his bangs out of his face gently, her smile never wavering. Though he could see the way her eyes were downcast, her brows almost furrowing. "It took me too long to rescue you, so you rescued yourself. You found me. And I didn't remember you." Her smile had a certain sadness to it now. "I left you alone."

"Deliah," he murmured, leaning further into her touch. He hadn't noticed her smile faltering, busy nuzzling her hand. "It wasn't your fault."

"Wasn't it?" She hummed, running the fingers of her free hand through his hair. "When I realized who you were, when we took you in from the streets. You were so sad. So touch starved…...you still are." 

"Maybe… but I found you. You remembered. That's all that matters. That and us." She was right though. When he was first brought in, he had been especially jumpy. He flinched away from touch the first few weeks, would keep to himself and stay silent. 

But Deliah and her family were patient. Mostly. There was often miscommunication and lost tempers, but they got better.  _ He _ got better.

That was when Lucian realized he was so touch starved. He craved it like an addict craved drugs. Deliah wasn't always comfortable giving it, but anytime she did, he felt blessed. Like he was floating on clouds.

"I like when you touch me….I feel like I need it."

"You deserve it after all you went through. I'll give you ten times as much gentleness as they gave you pain. I'll make it all up to you," she whispered. She shifted under him, sitting up. He moved only enough so his head was on her lap, and from her smile, that had been her goal. "You will feel loved with me," she murmured, leaning down to plant a kiss on his lips. "I'll make sure of it."


	3. Delirium - Day 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angel's Trumpet, or Burgmansia, are have beautiful pendulous (hanging) flowers that have a trumpet shape. They come in shades of white, yellow, pink, orange, green or red. Most have a strong pleasing fragrance that is most noticeable in the evening.  
Burgmansia are part of the Solanaceae, or Nightshades, family and have tropane alkaloids also found in Atropa Belladonna, also known as, deadly Nightshade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vesta is my bab! This is a mafia au, and they are female here. She is also a doctor!  
Zaz is JudeJube's boi! He's a mafia boss alongside his brother and co-owner of a building and demolitions company~  
They are secretly dating, but the rival mafia (Heaven's Angels) found out~ Rip  
Raphael is the leader of the rival mafia~

She groaned as she woke up, feeling light-headed and groggy. Vesta could feel something was wrong. She reached for the water bottle on her night stand, hoping for a drink. It took too long for her to open it, her hands shaking too much. Once she managed to open it she took large gulps of it and nearly finished the bottle. 

"Wh-What happened," she slurred, massaging her temples. There was a pressure in her skull that wouldn't go away and she felt unusually warm. 

Vesta tried to sit up but when she did the room was beginning to tilt and she could feel the something want to come up. Slapping a hand to her mouth, she slowly laid back down, trying to breathe in and out. Hoping it'll help ease the nausea.

Her mind was racing, thoughts going too fast. They kept sliding away, as if she was running her fingers through water. She couldn't figure out why she was feeling like this

Tears were stinging her eyes, and when she went to wipe at them she realized she was crying. The warmth of the tears not registering until now. 

She had to get up. To call someone. Do something, but what? What could she do? She lived alone. If only Zaz was with her, he would help……

"Zaz!" She exclaimed, sitting up quickly. Only to clap a hand to her mouth as the nausea returned, this time with a vengeance. 

She got up and stumbled around her room, trying to hold it back, tears stinging at her eyes again when she found the light.

Though it didn't help. Her vision was fuzzy around the edges and everything seemed too far away. When she touched the counter, and then the toilet, they were blissfully cold, but she didn't dwell on that. Couldn't, not as she started to throw up.

When she was done, she laid her head on the cool, porcelain. A shudder went through her as she sat there. She had to get up. She needed to clean herself and call Zaz. But she was so tired and this felt so good against her face. What if she just rested a bit here. It's not like she had to do anything. Right? 

  
  


At an office, a figure sat in a chair. He was grumbling under his breath as he filled out paperwork. 

"Fucking Sayyid, stupid fucking business. Not like we really need it," he huffed, signing the form currently in front of him. If he had his way he wouldn't even bother with the company, but seeing as it was good cover, he may as well keep up with the paper work. Shame he had sent Judas home early. He set it aside and stretched, sighing happily when his back gave a series of successful _*pop poppoppoppop*_.

It was then that a letter caught his attention. It was white, typical of things like that, but what had caught his attention was the gold lettering.

Frowning, he picked it up. It just said  _ 'For Zaz' _ in calligraphy. Something about it seemed familiar, made him irrationally angry.

Rolling his eyes, he opened it quickly and took out the letter. A flower fell out, shaped almost like a trumpet. It was white and rather large, the bell of it flattened from being in the letter.

His eyes scanned the loopy lettering, expression darkening as he read. 

_ 'Zazual Zurvani, _

_ You and I are in quite the predicament, are we not? You, a demon spreading sin and violence throughout this wonderful city. Corrupting innocents. And I, an angel, bringing mercy and salvation for everyone! I would ask you to leave, but I do not believe you would listen. Demons never do. _

_ So instead I sent your little whore a gift. It would be about a week from when you read this. I’m very generous, I know. It was something very special, as well. Some tea. As you know she enjoys it.  _

_ Did you know? This flower I sent you, it's called the Angel's Trumpet. It's so beautiful, of course it would have such a name. But, it's function is less than angelic. How peculiar, don't you think? That something so lovely could be so deadly. _

_ Well, I won't keep you much. I do so hope your bitch enjoys her angel trumpet tea. I made it myself. _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Raphael.' _

Zaz reread the letter a few times, his rage washed away by a wave of chill as dread settled deep in his gut.

In only seconds he had gathered his keys and was sprinting out of the building, phone to his ear as he tried to call Vesta. "Shit, shit, shit. I'm going to  _ murder _ those bastards."

He hoped Vesta would answer soon. That she was st-

  
" ** _She's still alive_ ** ," he growled to himself. "She has to be."


	4. Lost - Day 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's hard to find one's way when one is used to following another's.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Azreal, or Axol as they later introduce themselves, is an archangel. They are the archangel of death and were kept so close to God they had almost no will of their own. They are later tasked with Earth's protection as the Axolotl and this is where this all ties into Gravity Falls. So in short, Axol is my Axolotl OC for GF.
> 
> Why yes, this my GF au and it does feature billdip~

They walked through the pristine halls of their home. Everything was white, with hints of gold and blues so light they were barely noticeable.

There were no decorations or pictures. Just bare walls and the occasional ash wood door. Memories flooded back to them as they walked.

_ "My littlest archangel. Youngest of my first seven children. Is this where you have been hiding?" _

_ They looked up toward the voice, smiling brightly. "Mother!" They exclaimed, waving happily. "It's nice to see you!" _

_ The being chuckled, a soft tinkling noise that made the archangel smile even brighter. _

_ "It is nice to see you as well, young one. I was looking for you." _

_ The archangel's smile fell, confusion taking its place. "You were? Why is that?" _

_ "I must give you your job, like I have done with your siblings." _

_ The archangel's wings fluttered, the white feathers shimmering with flashes of bright blues and yellows. "Really?! I can't wait!" _

_ Another chuckle, this one almost sad. The archangel didn't dwell on it though. It was their turn to get their job. It was finally time to help his mother and siblings. _

_ "What is it?" _

_ A tan hand, encased in shining light, landed on their head and ruffled the soft hair gently. "It is an important task, little archangel. As such, I must have you close to me until I tell you. Do you understand." _

_ The archangel nodded quickly, eyes bright with excitement. _

_ The light surrounding the figure softened, seeming to warm up in fondness. "Very well. Azreal, last of my archangels. The archangel of death." _

The memory fizzed out. Azreal lifted a hand to their face, noting that it came away wet. They tilted their head to the side as they studied it. 

_ "Azreal, why do you cry?" _

_ Azreal gasped, standing to attention before the figure. They hastily wiped at their tears. "N-N-Nothing, Mother." They sniffed, putting on a bright smile for her. Though it felt wrong, fake. _

_ There was a pause and then a hand on their hair. It was gentle, soothing as fingers ran through the soft strands of white, yellow and bright blue. "Turn around, Azreal." _

_ Confused, but trusting her, they turned so that their back faced the figure. "....a-are you ang-angry with me mother?" They asked softly, something unpleasant bubbling up in their chest. _

_ "No." It was all the being said before hands were in their hair again. They were gentle, running through the strands before separating them into three parts. They were then being braided. _

_ It was then that Azreal made a soft noise of confusion. "M-Mother?" _

_ "You did nothing wrong. Though it seems you are sad. Is it for the humans?" _

_ "....yes," they whispered. "They are beautiful. Why must they die?" _

_ The being chuckled softly. "It was my design. The humans, my youngest children. The most willful. Protected by their older siblings, the angels. But they could not live as long as them, or there would be no more room for them and my other creations. So their souls must be brought back and given new life." _

They kept walking, shaking the memory off. Though that didn't stop the archangel from touching the braid. Since then, they had always worn their hair as such. Rarely letting it down. 

After walking aimlessly through the halls, Azreal stopped in front of large double doors. These were larger than the rest in the mansion styled home. They were made of brass and carved to depict a light shining down on the cosmos.

This is-  _ was _ her room. The place where Azreal returned to once their job was done. Where they stayed until she left.

_ Azreal stared at the being, stunned silent. _

_ "But…..you can't leave us," they whispered. _

_ The being placed a hand on their head, but it didn't bring them the same comfort it used to.  _

_ "And this is why I must go." _

_ "Bu-" _

_ "Hush." Azreal's mouth clicked shut. There was a sadness in the air. One that had Azreal tearing up. "You were all given free will. Yet you all squander it." _

_ Azreal was about to open their mouths but she held up her other hand to silence them. And they did, but it was clear that they were distressed. _

_ "I am not angry. I am….I am saddened. My presence has hurt the first of my children. And because of that, I must go. I must let all of you have your freedom, as I had always wished it of you." She sighed softly, cupping Azreal's cheek. "You must all keep to your jobs, but I wish for you to live as you like. Most of all you. Keeping you here has hurt you and I cannot bear it any longer." _

_ The tears spilled and Azreal found themselves fighting to hold back sobs.  _

_ "I am afraid I must give you some...final tasks." _

_ "A-Any-Anything!" _

_ "Always so ready to please. My sweet archangel…" She sighed again and leaned down to kiss their forehead. Azreal's eyelids closed and they glowed brightly for a few seconds, the light dying down slowly. Still, their eyes stayed closed. _

_ "Azreal, Archangel of death. You are the world's new Axolotl. Though not a god, you will have the authority of one. Keep this world safe, an evil comes to threaten it. This home will be yours, a safe haven for you and a friend that I shall gift you." _

The flashback ended again and Azreal let out a shuddery breath. It had been several years since they had gone into God's room. They still couldn't bring themselves to do it.

"You left us mother….we were so lost. We didn't know what to do," they whispered, laying a hand on the cool metal. There was no warmth coming from the room like before. Nothing to indicate any signs of life. Or her return.

"The others left….it was years after you, but they're gone. None would stay with me. I was death…. Even though your message was clear, I was at fault. And then I was alone."

They sighed at sat down, back facing the door. "I don't know what to do, Mother…..please, I need a sign. Some direction….." They sniffed, biting their lips as tears started to fall faster. "I...I-I n-wa-want you b-back….pl-please com-come b-back."

  
  


Months later, the archangel felt a disturbance. Something was wrong. Frowning, they teleported to Earth. From there, they flew to where they felt the disturbance. All the way to Egypt and the domain of the land's gods. 

A darkness was brewing. Was this their sign?

  
  


Centuries later, Azreal stood in front of a half god, half demon hybrid. Darkness flowed off the demigod in waves, but so did distress. Fear. It was odd enough that they were left in confusion. Especially when they realized it was for the human who was about to die. This was the great darkness she had warned them about all those centuries ago. Curious.

"Axolotl."

The archangel stood up straighter, frowning at the title. They didn't like it, but at least it wasn't 'Angel of Death'.

"Hello...you may call me Axol." 

The demigod bit their lip, looking up at the wyvern that was about to rip into Mason 'Dipper' Pines.

"I will do anything you want, just don't let him die. Or I'll destroy this fucking dimension."

They didn't like that, not one bit. If the human died, he would be freed. The threat would be very real. If they just gave him what he wanted, there was no telling what the two might do. The human was already turning. Tainted.

"I want both of you bound to me. To assure myself that you won't just use him to kill everyone."

The demigod growled and bared his teeth, but Azreal held fast. This was not what they expected, they were going off the rails and doing their own thing now. Truly acting on their own without referring to thoughts of what She would say or do. They still felt lost, but at least they were fulfilling Her last wish.

_ "Find your freedom and live, my little archangel." _

"....Deal."


	5. Gunpoint - Day 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes one has to take drastic measures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marcus is back! My son, look what you got yourself into. Fuking rip  
Alistair is Ineffible_Nephy's boi~ He's a mean boi, very evil. Good at potions. Likes to drug others with love potions. Very stoic.
> 
> Also, wandpoint, gunpoint same difference~

He stared the other down, chin lifted in defiance. He was wandless, powerless against the other wizard. Though not against the potion he was being drugged with. He fought each command and each compulsion to follow them. Fought the feelings of love and affection it forced him to feel for Alistor. For his jailor.

The wizard in question stared back. There was a hint of annoyance in his eyes, which Marcus counted as a win. Though it was gone and replaced by the typical disdain. 

"Stupid. I'm very ashamed of you Marcus."

Marcus flinched. He could feel the shame and disgust that swirled in his gut at those words. The bitterness in his mouth at having disappointed Alistor again. He bit his lip, forcing himself to keep eye contact.  _ 'Don't look away, it's not real, not true, it's all just fake. It's from the potion. I don't love him,' _ he thought. It was a mantral he would repeat to himself to help fight it off. 

Another flash of annoyance. "Very well. Suffer then." Alistor turned on his heel and left.

Once the door clicked shut, Marcus fell to his hands and knees and threw up. When he was done, he sat up. Or tried to, falling flat on his ass instead. His head was hurting and he had to close his eyes against the way the room seemed to tilt on its side. "D-Deep b-bre-breaths," he gasped, curling up and breathing in deeply.

He was shaking from the backlash of the love potion. It was harsh, worse than when he failed to take a pepper up potion when he hadn't slept in days. It was worth it to see the annoyance in Alistor's face though.

  
  


The next day, Marcus felt something was off. He was feeling like shit, but that was normal. No, this was something else.

He wasn't sure what it was until Alistor barged into his room. His  _ prison _ .

Before Marcus could speak, Alistor was upon him. Wand pointed between his eyes. 

There was no indication of rage or annoyance on the others face. Nothing to tell Marcus how he was feeling or what he would do next. It was so reminiscent of when he was younger. When Alistor had kidnapped him and his friends. When he had  _ tortured _ them. For the first time since his capture, Marcus felt the icy touch of fear surrounding him.

"Sit down." It was all Alistor said, his tone as disinterested as his expression. He did, however, press the point of the wand closer to his head. Enough for it to touch Marcus and send unease crashing through him.

He obeyed, going over to the small desk and sitting down. Marcus didn't look up at him, but he didn't have to. He could feel the want against the top of his head.

He could also feel the phantom pain of his scars. The one around his neck the most predominant of them all.

"So you're easier to control like this. Interesting." Still, Alistor placed a cup of tea before him. One Marcus hadn't seen before.

"The potion helps, but this is more effective...very well."


	6. Dragged Away - Day 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He never wanted to go back, but sometimes the world never gives us a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's my sweet boi Vincent~ He's a falcon-human hybrid and is very traumatized~
> 
> The men are not important, but they're dicks. 
> 
> Its so late and rather short, but shshhshshs

It had been an accident. He hadn't done it on purpose. Vincent had just been trying to fly from his window. He hadn't expected to hear a loud noise in the empty house. But he had and it had spooked him enough for him to freeze up mid-flap. 

And he fell and fell and fell. Then  _ thud crack  _ and a choked off scream.

There was very obvious shuffling within the house and Vincent knew what was happening.  _ They _ were here. He couldn't stay. They would find him and see what he had done. Then they'd take him to the labs again and he did not want to go back there. He was free of them. Sure, he traded one cage for another, but at least here he wasn't poked and prodded and insulted. At least here he didn't have to fight to survive.

"He's outside, come on."

"Stupid brat, he's wasting out damn time."

"Stop complaining man. They pay good just to do shit like this. Come on. Faster we take him back the faster we can go home. I'm ready for some relaxation."

Vincent ignored the rest of what they said. He was not about to be captured. 

He shifted over to his side, trying to roll over onto his stomach. Sharp, blinding pain shot up his wing and his back though. It had Vincent falling back into a heap, biting his lip to keep from making a sound.

He could feel the liquid gathering at the corner of his eyes. "No," he whined, biting his lip as he forced himself to turn over.

The pain had him seeing stars, the air whooshed out of his lungs from how badly it hurt. His nerves felt like they were alight and he could feel the tears starting to roll down his cheek. 

He had managed it though. Now he had to move. He planted his hands firmly on the ground, biting back the whimpers and cries as everyone set his wings and back on fire.

Shakily, he managed to lift himself up enough to put his knees under him. He paused to catch his breath. He could feel the weight of his wings, but he didn't dare look at them. One or both were broken. He knew what that looked like, had seen and felt it multiple times at the labs. He didn't want to see them right now, didn't want the flashbacks that were threatening to drown him to crash over him. He nee-

"There he is!"

"Damn, brat's still conscious? He must be a tough one. I thought birds were fragile."

Vincent had froze. His heart sunk. He was too late….unless? The men were still talking about him, so maybe he could sneak away?

He started to crawl away, but his wings dragged on the floor and it jostled them. That sharp pain from earlier enveloped his senses and he gasped, collapsing with a groan. 

He could feel the tremors going through his body from the exertion, from how badly it all hurt.

"Hey! Pay attention, fucker's trying to leave!"

"Nah man, don't worry, he won't be going far. Anyway, he was up against this fucking  _ bear _ of a man, get it?"

"Whatever, just help me take him back."

There was grumbling behind him and footsteps as both men finally approached him. He laid there, trying to breathe through his nose. It all hurt too much and he was running out of energy.

"Normally he's more feisty, so be careful man."

The one who had shouted earlier just snorted and went around to Vincent's front. "I doubt it. He looks about ready to pass out. Thought you said he was tough." There was laughter in his tone. He was mocking him.

With the last of his fading strength, Vincent shot up and scratched at the scientist. He managed to graze his cheek with his claws, only for his partner to step on his wing.

There was another audible  _ crack _ and Vincent choked on his scream. 

"The fuck did I tell you? Be careful! Now they're gonna dock money from my pay for saving your sorry ass."

"Fuck off! Let's just get this piece of shit back to the labs."

"Hey! Don't kick him!"

But the warning came too late and the one Vincent attacked kicked his chest. He felt some of his ribs give way and he flinched, groaning as more pain flared up.

He was finding it hard to stay awake, barely registering when the men lifted him up and started to carry him back into the house. The doorway was the last thing he remembered before he finally blacked out.


	7. Isolation - Day 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who needs companions when you have a whole castle and all the treasure you could ever want?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This a dragon OC of mine~  
Her name is Medusa and she's a very pretty bab~ But also believes she's hot shit. She's particularly picky about the company she keeps, if you could call it that~

Fog enveloped a castle sitting within a mountain side and clouds made everything look dreary. She looked outside, an ever present frown on her lips. The trees down below were barely visible, though it did look eerie. Like a haunted forest.

It was still, as if the life had been sucked out of it. It was silent, not even the birds chirping outside. 

If she didn't know any better, she would believe a terrible monster lived within it. But that wasn't the case. No.  _ She _ was the monster in these lands. After all, who would dare stand up to a dragon? Only a fool would.

As it was, the forest held life. She wasn't sure of what kind. And she didn't care to learn. They were unimportant. Weak. Uninteresting.

She walked away from the window with a huff. She was far too good for them. It's why she stayed within her castle. Unless she was hunting. 

Though. Sometimes her meals came to her. It was in the form of greedy little rodents. Humans or some other creature. And on one occasion an elemental. She'd chased them out, but everyone else got roasted. She then ate them. She wasn't about to waste a perfectly good meal, she wasn't a savage.

Medusa wandered over to her treasure room. There she kept all the gold and jewels and trinkets she liked. All of them earned or stolen from those who wouldn't need it anymore. Though the castle was by far her favorite.

She had taken it from some royalty. They put up a fight, but they had been no match for her.

And then she had moved in and taken over the area. It was all hers. Other dragons had attempted to take it, but she always won. Weak and pathetic. If none of them could take the place from the humans, how did they think they would win against her? Fools. 

She even chased out dragons trying to mate with her. They were all stupid. She wasn't about to share her good fortune with them. Let alone her nest. They were all unworthy. Medusa would settle for no less than perfection. Both of her mate-to-be and offspring. If she ever decided to try for it. She was happy as it was.

She ignored the pang of sadness in her heart. It was silly. She didn't need or want someone in her space. Especially when they weren't up to par with her or if they were uninteresting.

But.

Sometimes ... sometimes she would wish for the presence of another. For a companion. Even if only as acquaintances. Or maybe even  _ friends _ . Sometimes she thinks back on her ex-mate. She'd left him for how soft he was. Too kind. Letting enemies into their home. Pathetic. Kindness only got their kind killed. She wasn't about to have that happen to her.

So she left. 

Now she was living in her own castle instead of a basic cave system. She had large hordes of treasure. She had a prime hunting location and sometimes even got food 'delivered' directly to her. 

She was mostly left alone. Isolated from the rest of the beings in the area. It's how she liked it.

  
Or that's what she told herself anyway. A whispered mantra in the solitude of her home when the quiet was too much. When she was yearning for physical contact. A friend. Anything…  _ Anyone _ .


	8. Stab Wound - Day 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betrayers must always be punished....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is SO VERY LATE I'M SORRY I'M SUCH A DISGRACE  
On another note, have my boi~  
His name is Kisin, he is the Mayan earthquake god and also my OC version of the Axolotl from Gravity Falls (he does, indeed, have an axolotl form).   
He has a certain speech pattern where he won't use contractions and I love it, but also hate it because I sometimes forget  
He's gone through much and I do so enjoy hurting him.   
(He was originally only supposed to counter another friend's axolotl OC, but he grew feelings and now he's a full-fledged character)  
Ichor is godly blood in this and most of my writing involving deities (demons will either have darker blood or black and acidic/poisonous ichor), Kisin's is golden~

Kisin looked down at himself. The blade had pierced through the small crevice in the rocky chest plate armor he had created in self defense. He could feel the sharp pain from his wound, could feel the blade with each breath he took. 

He gripped the wrist of the god who dared to attack him and slowly pulled the blade out of himself. All the while he kept eye contact with him.

"Is there a reason you attacked me?" His tone was deceptively calm, but his eyes were hard and spoke of cruelty. Revenge. "Tell me, god of storms. Why have you decided to fight me? You know as well as I that I am more powerful than you."

The other deity cursed, trying to tug his wrists free of Kisin's hold. The others grip only tightened. Stone grew from the ground, encasing the other deity's feet in it. "Monster," the god hissed. Thunder rolled in the distance, but Kisin ignored it. "Betrayer!"

Before Kisin could speak, he felt the burning sting of another cut. This one along his back and he let go of the trapped god to face a goddess. She was beautiful, but the rage made her look dangerous. Evil almost. "Goddess of water," he acknowledged. It dawned on him what their plan was. Double team him and trap him. They believed, wrongly, that water would be enough to stop him. Shame they didn't know that water mixed with the sandy ground would make mud. And mud was still earth.

"You joined that bastard in taking us out. We won't allow it!" The goddess yelled, moving in and swinging her blade. 

Kisin didn't bother sidestepping it, she was too quick and he would get cut anyway. It would simply be another battle scar. Though her words sent a sharp pang of guilt through his heart. He's tried explaining it before, but the other deities never listen. 

Her blade struck home and Kisin realized too late that she had changed tactics. Rather than slicing him, she buried it deep into his side.

At first he felt nothing, just looked down at her panting form in surprise. And then the pain shot through his veins. 

He winced and stomped on the ground, tremors radiating from where he stood. She was beginning to retreat, but the shaky ground had her losing her balance. 

To get some extra distance between the pair, Kisin moved away from them. He was holding his side, grimacing as he took each step. He could feel the blade still inside him. Didn't even have to glance at it. He could deal with it later. Right now he needed them gone. He wasn't about to try and seal them away, to  _ protect _ them without backup. Kisin was stubborn, but he wasn't a fool.

"Do not try to find me, or you will befall their fate far sooner than the others have," he threatened. He watched as the goddess hurried over to her partner in crime. She was hitting the rock with water, but it was like splashing water over dried cement to wash it away. Useless.

Deciding not to stick around for longer than necessary, he snapped his fingers. A portal opened up to his home. "Do not make yourselves known to him. Hide as much as you can," he told them. It was a warning. One he hoped they took to heart. He stepped through the portal and disappeared.

  
  


In the privacy of his own home, Kisin leaned against his wall heavily. The rocky surface dug into his back, but he ignored it in lieu of the knife sticking into his side. The injury itself didn’t hurt, unless he moved. That told him the blade was serrated, which means this would definitely scar and would be messy to remove. “Damn you Cipher… This deal has turned my own against me. Made me a traitor…. Perhaps I am not as good a guardian as I once believed?” he whispered to himself.

Kisin grimaced as he wrapped his fingers around the knife. Just that was enough to send pain radiating out from the wound. Biting down on the soft flesh of his lip, knowing full well it will be bleeding when he was done, Kisin slowly pulled the knife out of his side.

Inch by agonizing inch left his body. He could feel the jagged edges, the hot ichor spilling over from it. The tearing of his flesh. Muffled grunts filled the tiny living area, as well as the  _ drip drip drop _ of the golden ichor hitting the rocky floor.

Once the whole blade was out, he gasped. His grip on it loosened and it clattered to the floor loudly, the sound echoing throughout the space and down the halls. He had curled over himself protectively, one hand covering the gaping hole in his side as he muttered softly under his breath. Magic flowed around him, going through the cracks of his fingers and to the wound. He grimaced again, teeth clenched as he felt the muscle and skin being pulled closer. As the magic began to stitch him back together. 

The moment the flow his ichor slowed, he let go and stopped muttering. His breaths were coming in rapid, short puffs. He still didn’t uncurl, wanted the pain to settle down first. “This is nothing to the blade I have plunged into the backs of my fellow deities,” he whispered to himself. “I will avenge you all when the time is right, be patient.”


	9. Shackled - Day 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Prince shows his favorite toy just where his place is....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Aleksander, my human empath and Abaddon, my Prince of Hell! They do not have a healthy relationship~
> 
> The implied stuff Abaddon did was, indeed, rape. So uh, ye. He's not a good.

Aleksandr groaned, he was feeling his consciousness return to him. His mind felt slow, his muscles heavy. Tired. It was like he was trying to swim through molasses and failing. He could drown in it if he didn't surface. When he breathed in, though, he knew he was fine. 

"Ah. I see you're waking up, my pet."

Aleksandr recognized that voice. He knew it well. It had spoken to him many times before. Both cruelly and…. He felt his lips twitch downward. Whatever the bastard had done to him, and he knew now it was his fault, was not pleasant. He felt like he had caught the flu or something, like all he needed to do was sleep and things would get better. He knew it was partially to keep him sedated, Abaddon never really liked it when he fought him too much. He  _ had to be in a special mood  _ for it, or so he’d said once. Bastard.

“Wh….” Aleksandr groaned, his mouth felt like it had been stuffed to the brim with cotton. “Fuck….what did you….d-do?” he managed to ask.

He tried to sit up, using his arms to push himself up. It took so much effort, he hadn’t heard the rattling of his chains as he moved about. At least until he was forced to stop, partially up while still leaning on his arms. Which were beginning to shake with the effort. That’s when he opened his eyes, which was a feat all of itself, and he saw the chain. Followed it to the stone floor and then up, up up until he couldn’t see it anymore. He tried to sit up again, but only managed to tug the chain taut again. He had been  _ collared _ . 

Abaddon laughed at the pathetic attempts. “Oh, you won’t be getting out of those. Or doing much of anything really~” He paced outside of a cell, smirking down at the helpless human. His eyes roamed over his back and arms, currently shaking from the effort to keep himself upright. He knew how strong the other was, how resourceful. It was one of the many reasons he kept the human around still, instead of killing him for his soul. It would be futile for him to escape anyway, he knew this. The cocktail of drugs he’d given him would make sure of that.

The fact that Abaddon had gotten too attached to the human had him a little annoyed. Not with himself, but the human. He knew Aleksandr was an empath, so maybe the little bastard had been using his powers on him on the downside? All to make him more fond of him, maybe even  _ kinder _ . And that would not fly here, he wouldn’t allow this…. Lower life form to control him like that. He had to prove to him, and himself, that he didn’t care. He frowned, glowering at the human who had lain back down in exhaustion.

“If you behave, I’ll think about giving you some water. And possibly some food. But for now,” Abaddon felt his lips stretch into something twisted, inhuman and wrong. “I think I’ll leave you like this. I rather like how you look. Collard, chained. And oh so  _ helpless _ .” 

Aleksandr didn’t even give him a response, just shut his eyes and tried to block it all away. Whatever drugs were used on him were making him tired all over again, sleep taking him once more.

Abaddon leaned closer to the cage bars, seeing his toy relax and succumb to the drugs in his system. "You are _mine_. You are nothing but _my plaything_. And no one will **_ever_** take you away from me." With that, he turned on his heel and left.


	10. Unconscious - Day 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loss is draining....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vesta again! And this time they sad because they lost the love of their life, rip  
Plus a mini cameo from the love of their life, Zaz!
> 
> The death sleep, or death-like sleep, I mentioned is typically called Sleep. It is what sex demons, in this universe, go into when they run out of energy (which is what they feed on from others) or when they're very, very hurt. It's basically what death is for them, so every time this happens, Vesta has essentially died and then come back. Which is why it seems like they're asleep for a long ass time instead of being dead.  
The more it happens, the longer it takes for them to come back though. So not good for them to keep falling into that~  
also, sorry it's so short qwq

They were so hungry. Vesta could feel their energy draining from them as each second ticked by. They laid in  _ his  _ bed and sighed. It had been weeks, maybe even a month or two, since they last fed. They haven’t had the energy to even ask one of their friends for help. Not that they would have anyway, not after what had happened. One was having a crisis. They had  _ failed _ him. The other…. He was struggling with what he had done. It saved his lover, did what they couldn’t. But it had cost Judas so much pain, and Nemezio was still guilt-ridden. Even if he didn’t quite show it Vesta could tell it haunted him.

So no, they couldn’t ask them for that. There were new members too, but Vesta wasn’t going to go looking for them for that. Didn’t want to. They didn’t want any of them. They wanted  _ him _ , but he was  _ gone _ . They could feel the ache in there chest, dulled over time. Yet still ever present. 

If they were so tired from their hunger, they would have cried again. 

Instead, they just rolled over onto their side and curled up. They were laying on top of the black, silk covers He loved. One of his many indulgences. “Zaz….” they breathed, already feeling the pull of their death sleep. Their vision went blurry and their body went limp, eyelids drooping. For a few seconds, they could see Zaz’s form, translucent, sitting on the edge of the bed. He looked worried, sad even. “....Don’t be….sad….I’ll….. Be fi-fine,” they whispered, smiling a tiredly. Sleep took them then, unconsciousness making their world go black.

Unbeknownst to them, there was a shimmery form beside them. A man, tall and pale skinned. Eyes a bright red with black sclera and black veins growing out from them. He had bright red hair that was tied up in a ponytail and a loose fitting white shirt. His brows were furrowed and he was frowning, worried for the demon laying in his bed who had fallen into a death like sleep. They wouldn’t awaken for a while, he knew. So it was fine, in theory. He also knew that this wasn’t good for them and that there was a possibility they would never wake up. But he couldn't do anything. He was unable to help the only one he truly cared about. Not yet, at least.

“Wake up soon, Poppet. Please.” His shimmering form faded then, leaving the demon for now.


	11. Stitches - Day 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some jobs require medical attention...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!  
This is Mirra. She is my Skyrin character and she's a feisty lil shit. She is a wood elf/werewolf. Leader of the dark brotherhood and co-leader of the thieves guild. Ingame she is top dog in the companions, but only because I need to have my quests completed. She actually just left once she became a werewolf. Even left the college once she learned enough magic and got the Dragon Priest mask.

She held her breath, flattening herself to the wall to make sure she was completely hidden. She pulled her mask up some more, as well as the hood of her cloak. She needed to blend into the shadows, to not be seen. If she was seen, she was dead. 

The pounding of feet against the cobbled stone floor grew louder as the seconds ticked by. She couldn’t hold her breath that long, so she let it go slowly and tried to breath in as softly as she could. 

Just as the guards passed by her hiding sport, she felt a twinge of pain from her side and she sucked in a breath. Only to hold it and cover her mouth, eyes wide. The sound of running had stopped and there was shouting. Commands were being given to search for her. Mirra could feel her heart pounding in her chest.  _ ‘Please don’t let him find me, please don’t let him find me, oh Hircine, please,’ _ she thought, begged. 

Footsteps grew close, one pair. She could take on one guard, but she knew the rest weren’t far behind. She couldn’t risk it. Didn’t want to. So she pressed herself further into the spot between the barrels and the wall. She held her breath. Didn’t move. And waited. And waited some more.

Soon enough, or not from Mirra’s perspective, the guard grumbled something about skeevers and left. Once the sound of feet hitting the floor was far enough away, Mirra let out the breath she had been holding. She breathed shallowly, trying her best not to jostle the arrowhead still sticking out of her side. Using the wall for support, she stood up slowly and winced.

Peeking at her side, she winced again. There was a dark, wet patch on the side of her crimson dark brotherhood armor. And it would continue to grow if she didn’t get home soon.

  
  
  


It had taken an hour or so, but Mirra had made it to the opening of the Thieves Guild. She pressed the button to the entrance and made her slow way down the stairs. “Hircine, I hope someone is up,” she hissed, grimacing as she pulled on the latch to close the secret entrance.

As she slowly inched her way into the Cistern, Mirra could feel the dizziness start to hit her. She stopped long enough to drink a potion of vitality, giving her the extra bit of strength to keep going.

Once she did, she spotted Brynolf at the middle of the area. He seemed to be talking with one of the newer recruits, probably giving them a new assignment. She was glad she had left him as the stand-in leader as she adventured. He was definitely more suited to the task.

Waiting for the recruit to leave, she limped her way out of the little entrance hallway. "Brynolf!" She called out, her voice hoarse. The sound echoes still and the older Nord turned to face her.

"Mirra!" He greeted, approaching. "What are you do- what the devil happened to you lass?!" At this point, he had started to sprint over to Mirra, lifting her up bridal style and setting her on a nearby bed. 

"Oh, you know. Brotherhood stuff. Ambushed. Contract betrayed us, but he's been dealt with. Had the guard after me, but they didn't see my face so I think I'm good. Took an arrow to the side, one managed to nick my calf," she said, sighing in relief at not having to be up and about again. 

"Gods above, let me see. Lift it up," Brynolf said, motioning to her armor. When Mirra hesitated, he rolled his eyes heavenward. "Don't be coy now, lass, I know you're taken."

"That's  _ not _ why I'm hesitant, but thanks," Mirra huffed, flushing behind her mask. Still, she slowly peeled the armour up, grimacing at the feeling. "Daedras, this is gross."

Brynolf huffed a laugh, gathering some thread and a needle. He grabbed a bottle of alcohol and poured the amber liquid into the need and thread. "Well, should have thought of that before getting shot."

"Ha ha, very funn- ow! A warning would have been nice!" 

Brynolf just hummed as he prodded the arrow wound. "I'm going to have to make this bigger. Here." He leaned over and opened the drawer to the nearest nightstand. He pulled out a clean looking cloth and handed it to her. "Bite down on this."

Mirra was tempted to say she didn't need it, but years of experience told her she would. She took the offered cloth and folded it. She put it in her mouth and nodded, noting that Brynolf had taken out a dagger as she had done this.

He nodded back and got to work. Pain flared in Mirra's side and she gave a muffled hiss, teeth clenching down on the cloth. She outright screamed when he wiggled the arrowhead out of her, hands balling into fists around the sheets.

There was the tall tale  _ clang _ of metal hitting the floor and she knew the deed was done. Though it left her with a gaping, bleeding wound. And pain.

She screamed again when alcohol was poured into her injury, turning to glare at Brynolf. Who just gave her a tight lipped smile. "For infection."

She couldn't argue that, so she groaned and tried to relax again. She motioned for him to continue. Better get this all over with soon.

Sure she could use magic, but she was too tired. The bloodless had been more substantial than she originally thought and she wasn't willing to try anything. 

"This will hurt, try and be still lass."

Mirra Just nodded, biting down on the cloth again. The initial sharp twinge of being pierced, had her hissing again. She tried to keep herself still and not move away, to let Brynolf finish what he was doing.

At some point, Mirra was being shaken awake. She hadn't realized she has passed out until she woke up, panic clouding her judgement as she sat up quickly. Only to groan and lay back down with a hand on her side.

"Easy there, lass. You're still hurt."

"How… how long was I out?" Mirra asked, taking deep breaths to ease the pain that had flared up. She moved her hand under her armor and felt along her skin. There were scars from previous mistakes and other encounters, all faded and old now. And then her fingers brushed over tender skin, making her wince. She felt along her side more gently now and could feel the coarse string used to sew her shut. It was decent work, showed obvious years of practice. It didn't surprise her one bit.

"You fell unconscious half way in. I decided to finish up and let you sleep. It's the 'marrow, midday. Here, I brought you something to eat."

Mirra smiled and, with Brynolf's help, managed to sit up. "....thanks," she whispered, taking the offered meal. It was a simple dish, beef stew. But it was already making her hungry. It smelled divine. She would have to give compliments to their chef. 

"Don't mention it lass. Be more careful next time." It was all he said before he left.


	12. "Don't Move" - Day 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you have to follow orders you really don't want to follow...

“Don’t move.” 

The command wouldn’t normally have been enough to stop her. Especially not from those stupid Thalmor scum. She lived to ruin their plans and be a general nuisance to them. Though that made her a primary target for their little assassination attempts. Well.  _ Failed _ assassination attempts. They can’t out sneak the leader of both the Thieves Guild and the Dark Brotherhood. Not on her, any way.

“Let them go.” Her voice was shaky, but not with fear. Not completely. She was angry. She was trying to hold back her more primal side, but she could hear the whisper of the beast inside her wanting to be set free. To rip them all to shreds for what they did. For daring to capture  _ her family _ . “And I won’t burn you bastards to the ground.”

The high elf mage, a tall golden skinned man with bright yellow hair smirked. He was picking at his fingers as if he wasn’t facing down the most dangerous person on this planet. The only one able to defeat and kill Alduin. It made Mirra’s blood boil, her canines sharpening and eyes shifting as her hold on her transformation slipped for a second.

“You are in no position to be making demands.” he sneered at her, at her more feral appearance. “Nor to be making threats. Unless you want little Runa to suffer an accident? Or perhaps young Alvin?”

Mirra growled, her eyes narrowing as he moved over to the tied up and unconscious forms of her family. “Touch them,” she warned. “And you will regret ever stepping foot in Skyrim.”

“Scary. I’m quaking in my boots.” he snorted and rolled his eyes. “Now, let’s act like civilized people. Though I suppose with what you are.” he looked her up and down and Mirra growled again. “Well, savages can barely be considered civilized.” He went to pet the hair of the closest child, Runa and Mirra made to lunge.

Only to stop when one of the high elven bodyguards put a sword to her husband’s neck. “Ah, ah , ah. What did I say, hm?”

Mirra stood still, but she snarled at the man and the guard. She made sure to memorize their faces. Once her family was safe, she was going to hunt them down. This she promised Hircine.

“The fuck you want then.”

“Ah, good. What we want is for you to take out a pesky rebellion that’s starting in Markarth.” Mirra must have made a face because the elf rolled his eyes. “Yes, we know your feelings on the hold, but you do this and your family goes free. Meet us in Dawnstar when you’ve done the deed. You have all that?”

Mirra nodded. The meeting was in Dawnstar. That’s where the Brotherhood had relocated. If she could contact them, they would be able to help her out. For now she would play their stupid little game though.

“Fine. But if they’re hurt. You and all your people will die in the most painful and creative ways I can find. And then I will send you to Molag Bal’s plane of Oblivion.”

With that, she turned on her heel and left. Soon she would have her family and they would pay. She was sure Bal and Hircine would like a few extra playthings in their realms. Maybe even Boethia. She was the daedric prince of betrayal.


	13. Adrenaline - Day 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes hunts don't go so well

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!  
This fic has Angela, my tiger hybrid bab and Lan, Sinuzaki's honey badger hybrid bab~

It was supposed to be a simple hunt. They had planned this out perfectly, she knew they had. It should have gone without a hitch, but now here they were. Running as fast as they could from a herd of wild, enraged boar. And she was falling behind. Stamina was not her forte, it was Lan’s. She was built for strength.

The boar didn't slow down and Angela knew they wouldn't anytime soon. They needed a way to get to higher ground and wait them out. It was the only thing she could think of. 

She didn't notice the tree root, lost in thought as she was. So she felt it catch her leg, and then the sensation of falling.

Angela hit the ground hard, the air knocked out of her with a  _ whoosh _ . She struggled to breathe, lifting herself up on shaky arms. She felt as if things were far away and going in slow motion. "Fuck...," came the feeble whisper as she finally managed to get on her feet. It was only a few more seconds when she caught her breath and things returned to normal.

The boar were close and she couldn't stay any longer. She had stayed too long as it was. So she began to run again, feeling her heart pumping in her chest like it was going to come out. She could just barely see Lan up ahead. He was so far away, Angela didn't know if she could catch up, the last of her energy running out slowly. 

She debated stopping. She should be fine if she curled up or climbed a tree, she was tough.

Until she heard the snorting and of the board. The thundering of their hooves. Saw Lan turn around, heard him shout her name. It was enough to spur her into action. Gradually she sped up, the blood rushing through her veins all she could hear. Lan, all she could focus on. Her exhaustion melted away and she felt energized again She couldn't give up. 

"Th-The cave!" She shouted, pointing in the direction of the cave. 

She just barely saw what she assumed was a nod before Lan ran off to the caves. It was a rocky area with empty caves they had found on one of their explorations. If they could get far enough away, they could climb it and lose the pigs that way. Or so she hoped.

When they reached the cave system, Angela pointed at the rockier side of it. "Climb!" 

And Lan did. He quickly grabbed footholds and made his way up. Angela followed behind him, less sure in her movements. The boar got there just as she was high enough, where she was safe.

Her heart was beating rapidly in her chest, her breathing heavy. She felt dizzy and distantly she knew that the adrenaline had run out. It left her empty and exhausted. Tired. Alive.

She sat on a sturdy enough outcropping, leaning heavily against the rocky wall. She didn't even notice Lan approaching. Hadn't heard him until he touched her arm.

"Angie?" He asked softly, brows knit together in worry. "You doing okay?"

She was about to nod, thought about it, and then shook her head. "T-ti-tired," she managed, closing her eyes. "R-rest."

"Yeah, we can rest. Good job," he said, bumping shoulders with her. He was glad she was safe. Still a little worried, but glad nonetheless.


	14. Tear Stained - Day 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grieving for a lost love...

They looked up from their stuffed dinosaur. The new being had walked into the room. He was currently looking around it, something akin to a smile on his lips. They weren't sure why. They weren't even sure why he was here. Not after he showed so little interest in them.

When his eyes landed on them, Vesta tensed and looked away. They huffed the stuffed toy tighter to themselves. They didn't bother wiping their tears away. They were exhausted and hurt, sad.

They didn't notice the frown on the deity's lips, or the way he sat next to them. Too lost in their own thoughts and their sadness.

Until he touched their arm. 

Vesta jumped, a soft gasp leaving them. They looked up at Tawazun with wide, teary eyes. Their cheeks stained with new and old tears. The stuffed dinosaur had wet patches on it as well, further evidence of their emotional pain.

They stared at each other for a few more seconds, though it felt like hours for Vesta. They were too shocked by his closeness, his touch, to really register much of anything. Hadn't heard him speak.

"Vesta," Tawazun said, louder this time. And this time it got their attention, shaking them out of their own shock. 

They hummed in response, their shock turning into wariness. Was he here to tell them that they would never see Zaz again? To leave? They weren't sure. 

He cupped their cheek and Vesta leaned into it, the warmth of another wonderful against their skin. They had missed the contact that others provided, but they had locked themselves away and hadn't left for anything. Had turned their friends away even. 

Their eyelids fluttered closed and they breathed in and out softly. More tears fell from their eyes, though. They missed him.

Tawazun stayed silent. He watched as Vesta relaxed against him. It was almost as if they had been starved for touch. And with how he hadn't seen them since his two halves became whole, became  _ him _ again, he was sure they were starving.

"He's still here. A part of me now, but still here." It was said softly. He didn't want to startle them, though he did feel them flinch. So he ran his fingers through their hair, just like they liked it. Once they relaxed again, Tawazun continued. "He,  _ I _ , still love you. Let yourself feel it. I know you are able to." He leaned down to kiss their forehead, wiping more of their tears away. He hated seeing them cry. Hated the tear stains on their cheeks, on their plushie. 

Vesta whined, the sound soft and sad. They concentrated on the bond they have with Zaz, looking for his feelings. And sure enough, they were there. And so were Tawazun's.

The feelings filled them and soothes their aching heart. Fresh tears rolled down their cheeks as they let go of the plushie and clung to him instead. 

Tawazun held them close, rubbing their back in slow circles and running fingers through their hair. "We have you, love, we have you," he whispered to them, as well as other comforting words. Little hiccupy sobs left them as they began to cry in earnest. 

"Z-Zaz," they croaked, voice rough from crying.

"He's here, I'm here, love, we love you. You're safe." 

  
  


It was a few minutes later when Vesta's sons had stopped. They still had tears that fell, but it was less now. 

Their eyes struggled to stay open, their body limp against Tawazun's. They sniffed every now and then. "Slep- Sleepy," they slurred.

"Rest, love," Tawazun whispered. "I'll be here when you wake. We can talk then." Vesta nodded, yawning wide. They scooted closer to him, getting comfortable before they fell asleep.

Tawazun sighed, watching them drift off. He was glad it wasn't Sleep, but he had a feeling it would happen soon if they didn't feed. That could wait a bit, he needed to talk with them. "I hope you will give me a chance, Vesta. I love you," he whispered, kissing the top of their head. He wiped at their tears again, smiling when they cuddled closer.

He laid them down after a few seconds, shifting so that Vesta was laying on him before he covered them both.


	15. Scars - Day 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Each one holds a memory, and memories aren't always nice....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my OC Vincent again!
> 
> Fun fact, I turned this fic in for a grade and my classmates loved it and I was over the bloody moon~ Hope everyone else likes too~

Usually he avoided looking at himself in the mirror. At least while he didn't have his shirt or sweater on. He hated how he looked. Damaged. Ruined.  _ Dangerous _ .

Vincent used mirrors to look at his wings. He needed them to help when he preened them. They always looked pristine and beautiful, well cared for. His favorite part of himself, and  _ theirs _ too.

Right now though, that wasn't what was on focus. No, what Vincent was looking at was uglier, wrong. Painful.

He traced one of the thin, jagged lines across his torso with a finger. His eyes, bright yellow and always alert, followed it on the mirror. It was long, reaching from one side of his chest to the other. Below it were its siblings, matching marks from a time long ago. They were pale, almost completely invisible in comparison to his milk-white complexion. If not for the slight sheen and the difference in texture, no one would notice it. 

Even then, Vincent knew it was there. He knew where the others, some more visible and obvious than some, were. And he remembered. 

_ The hybrid before him roared. It was loud and Vincent felt himself tremble. He wasn't sure what was going on, but the parting words of the scientists were ominous.  _ "Either he dies or you do."

_ He was so distracted by it, he hadn't noticed the hybrid, a lion, charge him. Not until he was close enough to almost touch. It scared Vincent enough that he froze, eyes wide as his heart raced in his chest. He stood by as the hybrid lifted his clawed hand and brought it down on him.  _

_ He stumbled back from the force of the blow, wincing from the pain in his chest. He could feel something stinging, soreness. Something warm and wet. Another roar from the hybrid had Vincent jump, his wings snapping open. _

_ The sudden sight of the perfectly white feathers was enough to startle the lion hybrid, make him take a few steps back. And that was enough time for Vincent to turn tail and run. _

His eyes hardened as he traced another one on his side. Another  _ scar _ . This one looked more like a bite mark, the imprint of teeth still mostly visible. This had been a fight with a snake hybrid. 

_ The python hybrid had been nowhere to be seen when Vincent was forced into the fighting ring. The coliseum, as they called it. This wasn't his first fight, he knew what to do by now, but the lack of an opponent had him confused. He looked around, sticking to the edges of the arena. When he found nothing, he prepared to take to the skies, back turned to a weapons chest the scientists had added for ‘fun’. _

_ It had been a mistake. Before he could take off, he felt a sharp pain in his side. He cried out, his wings flapping wildly. Useless. He screamed as the python bit harder, feeling as he was being pulled backwards, away from the open area of the arena and into a more crowded spot. Where he would be vulnerable. Fear flowed through him like a shot of ice into his veins. _ He winced and moved on to another scar, letting the memory slip away.

This one, another jagged one, was thicker. It was on his stomach and had a matching twin just above it. The mark had just missed his belly button and he was thankful for that small mercy. It had been a tough fight for him, however. He had almost died that time. Sometimes he wishes he had.

_ The tiger hybrid had been too far gone, and far too dangerous. Too fast. Vincent had little time to react. Instead of running, he tried to take to the skies. He would be safe, taking a tiger head on would be suicide. He spread his wings, ready to launch himself into the air, but the tiger was already there. They had taken a swing at him, claws glistening in the light of the arena. Vincent made to move away, but the hybrid hit their mark. The force behind the hit pushed him enough to drop him to the ground. It forced the air out of his longs and dazed him. Though he shook his head and tried to scramble away, back turned to the mad hybrid. With another swipe of their claws, this time down Vincent’s back, it forced the other back onto the ground. He barely registered the pain, fear coursing through him as he realized he wouldn’t be able to get away. He was grounded, his only form of defense against his stronger opponents gone. _

There were more from the same match, three other jagged marks going down his back right in between his wings, bite marks on his shoulders. When it's really cold, he could feel the dull ache radiating from them.

On those days he would try not to leave his room. Both from the lack of energy and to not seem weak. To not make himself a target, even though he knew the other predatory hybrids wouldn't attack him. Not the ones he was living with now, at least. 

It was instinctual for him, to be wary. It was so deeply ingrained into him from his time in the labs, he wasn't sure he could ever break it. He didn't think he knew how.

He came back to himself when he felt another one. Puncture marks, almost too pale to see and just barely concave. These were his oldest ones and the easiest to miss unless they were touching him. Or they knew what to look for.

He looked down to his inner elbow. He couldn't see them, even with his enhanced sight. The scars were too old for even that. They were still there though. 

They were marks left on him by the scientists. A reminder that he was sold, betrayed and changed. Mutated.  _ Tortured _ . 

He had been four. He had trusted that man, that...that  _ scientist _ . The monster who made him into something less than human. Part animal. Dangerous. A freak. Someone's  _ pet _ .

_ "Do you want to be a superhero, Vincent?" _

_ The small child, a pale skinned and red eyed albino, looked up at the man. His eyes were wide, still a little puffy from crying, but he was feeling something like hope blossom in his chest. He looked away to look at the room again. It didn't seem like it, but maybe…. _

_ "You make heroes? Here?" He asked softly, feeling as if he was being shown some amazing secret. The place looked too clean, though. Like the doctor's rooms he had to go to sometimes. _

_ _

_ "Yes. We make heroes here. Do you want to be one?" _

_ "...I….I can be one?" Vincent asked. He wanted to be one, that way he could be helpful. He could take care of his momma and his papa. They wouldn’t be mad at him anymore and would take him back. But... "But….my momma….my papa…" _

_ "They'll be so proud of you! So happy that their little boy was so brave. That he became a big strong hero! …unless. Unless you  _ don't _ want to be one?"  _

_ "I do, I do! I can be brave! I want to be a hero!" He exclaimed. Whatever he was worried about faded, he could be brave. He would prove it, he would be the best superhero for his momma and his papa. _

_ It was then he felt a stinging sensation on his inner elbow. He gasped, eyes staring widely at the needle the man had stuck into his arm. It was long and scary and it hurt. Vincent could feel the tears gathering in his eyes, ready to cry again. This time for a different reason. _

_ "It's okay, it'll only hurt a little bit. You can be a hero soon, okay. Just be brave." _

_ "O-Okay." Vincent bit his bottom lip to keep from crying, but the tears still fell. When the needle was taken out, he held his arm close to himself. He smiled though, happy he would be a hero. _

_ The spot still hurt. And it was feeling warm. Too warm.  _

_ Hot.  _

_ Fire.  _

_ Burning. _

_ Laughter. Betrayal. _

He felt more than saw the drops of water. His cheeks were warm and when he looked into the mirror, he could see the tear tracks on his cheeks. He hadn’t noticed that he had clutched his arm to his chest, just like his younger version. He was hunched in over it, his wings curled around him protectively.

Vincent straightened himself up again and wiped at the tears. He could see his scars when he looked in the mirror again. The evidence of the cruelty he was forced to endure. Something he hoped would finally be over. It meant he was owned, an exotic pet for a rich man who couldn’t be happy with a tiger or a crocodile, but at least he wouldn’t have to fight to the death against others. He wouldn’t be getting any more scars.


	16. Pinned Down - 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mistakes were made, some fun was had...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my BNHA OC, Inali  
They are genderfluid, not exactly a hero but not a villain, they just here for the fun yo  
Their alias is Melodic Charm  
Their Quirk is Siren's Call. It basically charms people into doing whatever he wants them to do, but he has to sing it. He has to keep hydrated and they have to hear his voice to be charmed.
> 
> Is a short one, but ye~

They groaned, a hand going to their head. They felt the faint pulse of pain from where it slammed into the wall. The ache along their back from where it connected. And on their chest, a hand pressing down against them. They winced when they felt something creak, opening one eye to glare at the bastard who had trapped them. 

They were pinned to the wall of an alleyway. Some feet away were the people they had charmed into causing a riot. And in front of them was the hero who had caught them.

"I finally caught you, Melodic Charm. You're pretty slippery, you know that?"

"That's the point," they huffed, rolling their eyes. "You chase and we run. We're not about to make it easy for you."

The hero, Inali didn't bother to actually get the name of, frowned deeply. Only to press harder against their rib cage. It creaked painfully again and Inali hissed, tensing. 

"Well, I have you now. And you're coming in with me, Melodic."

Glaring at the hero, probably a beginner, Inali sighed. This was annoying. Couldn't they just leave them alone, it's not like they were directly hurting people or stealing.

"I'll pass," they said, jabbing their knee into the hero's gut.

"Ow, f-fuck!" The hero groaned, letting them go and doubling over from the pain.

"Language," they said, sneering down at the newbie. Now they had to leave. It would be nice to not have the guy give chase though, which he surely would. 

They then smirked, getting an idea. 

"How about you~ Go dance for the police~ Show them all those good moves~" they sung, activating their quirk. Their voice had an almost dissonant tone to it, but was still beautiful.

The hero stood up straight, eyes wide for a second before they became hazy. He spun on his heel, facing the exit of the alleyway, and dancer tap danced his way out of the alleyway.

Inali waited until they were alone before they doubled over with laughter. "Oh, that was good," they said between laughter.

Grinning, they turned on their heel and went down the other side of the alleyway. It was time to go home. They had a feeling they would need to wrap their chest. "Need to be more careful next time."


	17. "Stay With Me" - Day 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightmares bring back old fears....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Vesta (mine) and Tawazun (JudeJube's) again! Featuring their twin babies~
> 
> Vesta had a nightmare they lost Tawazun and their babies, which is a reflection of the two times they lost their lover and child/children in the past.

"NO!"  
Vesta shot up from the bed, breathing heavily as they frantically looked around the room. Their eyes landed on a crib and they scrambled out of bed, almost falling in their hurry.

They went over to the crib and peeked inside of it. Both of their babies were there, sleeping soundly. They had their little tails coiled around each other and were facing the other. The sight was heartwarming, and left them feeling more at ease. At least their children were safe. But …

They looked around the room and felt their heart sink again. Tawazun was nowhere in sight. Panic rose in their chest again and they wanted to desperately go look for him. But they couldn't leave their little ones.   
"T-Tawazun," they whined, focusing on the bond to try and locate them. They knew it was silly to worry about him, he was a god the strongest of the deities. But the nightmare had felt so real. They had lost them, had lo-

They jumped when arms wrapped tightly around them from behind, gasping and tensing. Though they relaxed when they got a kiss to their temple. 

"I am here, love. What is wrong?" He asked, pressing them closer to his chest. Vesta just whimpered and pressed closer to him, their tail wrapping tightly around his wrist. "Hush, love, it's okay. I am here. You are safe, as are the little ones. I am safe."  
When he felt them relax, the panic from the bond ebbing away, he loosened his hold and turned them around.

"What happened, Poppet?" He asked softly, cupping their cheek.

Vesta leaned into the touch and kissed his hand. Their heartbeat was slowing down to its normal pace. Their panic draining out of them and leaving them so tired.  
They stayed quiet, biting their lip. "I….I had a nightmare," they whispered. Later, they would go talk with Amrita about it, to rule her out. But not yet. Now they wanted comfort. And sleep.

"I...I thought…." They whined, looking over to the crib. "Don't want to lose you. Don't want to lose them."

He hushed them and kissed their forehead, then their lips. He rested their foreheads together afterwards, giving Vesta a smile.

"We are safe. Do not fret, love. You won't lose us. You won't lose anyone ever again." He said it with so much conviction, that Vesta had no choice but to believe him. "You should rest, you are tired. You are still recovering."

They felt a bit of fear return to them, their hands flying up to grip at his robe sleeves. "Stay with me? Please," they whispered.

"Always." He kissed them again before leading them to the bed. They climbed onto it and once Vesta was comfortable, he hummed a soft tune. Hi fingers ran through their hair, silver and gold magic coating the soft strands and seeping into them. It was a protection charm, hoping it would make sure they had proper rest. "No one will hurt you ever again. I will make sure of it."


	18. Muffled Scream - Day 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you just need to let it out...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This involves my boi Kisin, who is my Axolotl OC from the Gravity Falls fandom. Or well, he's one of my Axolotl OCs. This boi is the Mayan god of earthquakes, Kisin. He normally won't fight, but sometimes he gets so angry. He needs to let off steam somehow.
> 
> Lottie is JudeJube's Axolotl OC and is Aztec. Also water based. And I did, in fact use the waterbenders/bloodbenders from ATLA as reference. 
> 
> For extra info, Kisin hates Lottie for the sole fact that he's Aztec.

He was angry. He didn't remember why, but he was. He had left to a random dimension to let off steam, not wanting to ruin his own. Especially after it's begun to flourish once more. In doing so, he had found himself face to face with another deity.

" ** _Xolotl_ ** ," he growled, feel his rage bubble over like lava. In fact, cracks formed on his arms, starting from his wrists. Some along his neck. And some around his eyes and his mouth. Thin trails of lava began to flow through them and drip off his form, sizzling on the cooler ground.

Without warning and before the other could even speak, Kisin slammed his foot into the ground. There was a small crater and upturned earth. Then the ground shook violently. An earthquake.

Trees fell and the earth cracked opened a little. Lottie cursed under his breath, moving as far back as he could to avoid the shifting earth. 

"Wh-Why are you attacking me?! Stop this!" He shouted at the enraged god. He wasn't sure what his issue was, but this wasn't good. He had fought against him once before, but he was never this angry. 

Kisin didn't speak, just roared as he slammed his heel into the ground and leaning over. Magic glowed around his hands, brown and orange, as he lifted them slowly. 

Lottie took a step back, confused and wary to see what he would do. And then he spotted it. The bright orange-red of lava. It rose to through the cracks and became to overflow. This wasn't good.

Lottie knew there was water nearby, could sense it. So he closed his eyes and called to it, only to his and step back when he felt a sizzling sensation on his feet. Lava.

He moved away from the danger zones, making sure to never lose sight of Kisin. Who had somehow brought out his war hammer and was dragging it along. He was getting closer, murder in his eyes.

Lottie paled, eyes wide and chest feeling tight. He heard his heart hammering away and would have thought it would jump out of his chest from how terrified he was.

Instead, he turned on his heel and ran. He made his way to the lake that was close by, the one he had been visiting in earlier. 

When he reached it, he made sure that his feet were in the water. It would make his defenses more powerful. In fact, he lifted a wall in front of him, thankful that it was clear enough to see through.

Kisin was slower, more so with his war hammer, so he had some time to think up a plan.

  
  


Kisin growled when the Aztec god turned tail and ran. It made his anger worse, the lava dripping faster from his body.

He was slower than Lottie, more so with the hammer, but that didn't mean he still couldn't reach the other.

Once he spotted the other deity, his lips curled into a snarl. He raised the war hammer, amber eyes meeting horrified violet for a second. Then he brought it down.

Or so he thought. Somehow, the other deity had stopped him. He could see the Aztec struggling to hold onto whatever magic he was using to keep him in place. 

He let go of the hammer against his will, watching as it fell from his grip to the ground. Useless. 

He tried to struggle, but whatever held him was too strong. He couldn't even move a muscle. And that's when he started to feel the beginnings of something that wasn't rage. Icy, cold tendrils of fear shot up his spine. 

"Forgive me, but you need to cool down." It was all Lottie said before he lifted his arms, Kisin rising into the air with them, and threw him over head. Right into the lake.

The time it took for him to hit the was water, was all the time it took for him to realize what had happened. And what where he was. Ice gripped his chest, cold and harsh. It rushed through his veins. Chilled him to his core. Froze him.

Until Kisin reached the bottom of the lake. That's when he got up and in his own fear, swam up rather than teleport.

He broke the surface, making eye contact with his unwilling opponent.

Fear-filled amber met fear-filled violet, both deities tensed and still. Kisin, still angry and fueled by rage, lifted an arm. The mud under Lottie's feet started to climb up his body, quickly drying and hardening into rock.

Lottie gasped, trying to break free of the magic as it climbed up his legs. Thighs. Stomach. 

His heart was racing, thoughts flying a mile a minute. "No no no nononononono."  On instinct, he threw his own hand out and curled it into a fist. Swirling water encased Kisin, lifting him into the air.

The Mayan god let out a scream, muffled by the water and the currents as he was tossed around in his watery prison. He wasn't sure if it was from distress or rage, but that wasn't what mattered. 

It was enough to break his concentration, the rock slowly surrounding Lottie stopping. It softened and turned back into harmless mud.

Lottie watched Kisin thrash and try to fight the currents, failing each time. And with each failing, growing more and more frantic. He watched as the Mayan opened his mouth, probably to scream again, but all he could hear was the thudding of his heart and the  _ swhoosh _ of the water.

It took Lottie a few minutes before he felt calmer, if still wary. He released the god, letting him free fall toward the water. As he did so, he sat himself in the muddy floor. He watched as Kisin disappeared from the air, just before he hit the water. He had teleport to the other side of the lake, where Lottie could bare make out his kneeling form.

A bubble of laughter rose up from his throat, sound not quite right. Hysterical. Only for him to stop, covering his face with his hands and scream. 

Kisin was gasping for breath that he didn't need. Chest heaving and body shaking from the adrenaline rushing through him. He closed his eyes tightly, jaw clenched. His hands were curled into fists. Fighting Lottie had been a bad idea. He knew, but he'd forgotten in his own anger.


	19. Asphyxiation - Day 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you have to do extreme things to get others to submit to your will....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Behold, Ineffable_Nephy's boi Alistor! Featuring her other son, Blake. They're cousins. 
> 
> Also featuring my boi, Marcus! He and Blake are lovers (currently missing the last of their little poly trio, but that's fine, everything is fine~)

Alistor was furious. Marcus had defied him again, tried to escape even. The only thing stopping him being Alistor's love potion. And his magic. 

He's gone far too easy on him.

He'd left the smaller man on the floor, paralyzed by a spell. One he knew would wear off in a few hours at least. Or until he felt like releasing him. It gave him enough time to do what he wanted.

He went to an ornately carved door and opened it without knocking, expression as impassive as ever. He found Blake sitting in one of the love seats. He was reading a book, one that Alistor didn't care about at the moment.

When the door shut, Blake looked up. A small frown formed on his lips and his brows furrowed in confusion. More so when duo colored eyes spotted the wand Alistor was gripping tightly.

"Ali-"

"Imperio!"

Blake's eyes widened, body tensing as he sat up straight. Soon enough though, his mind went hazy, tension easing out of his body. He felt there, but not. Like he was floating on something soft. Peaceful. Calm.

He set the book down, a milky look in his eyes and a small frown on his lips. He was fighting it, but when his eyes cleared and he smiled pleasantly, Alistor knew he'd won.

Alistor's lips quirked up into a smirk before returning to their usual stoic. "Come with me." 

It was all Alistor had to say for Blake to stand up. He turned on his heel and left the room, Blake a few steps behind him. 

Once at the door, Alistor stopped. He turned to Blake, who stopped beside him, and pointed at the door. "The man inside this room." He opened the door, showing Marcus, still paralyzed on the floor. "He needs to be taught a lesson. Choke him."

Blake nodded once and walked inside. As he did so, Alistor undid the spell.

Marcus groaned and got onto his hands and knees. His arms shook from the effort, sore from having been tensed for so long.

He heard footsteps approaching and looked up with a glare, mouth opened to spit out an insult.

The words died on his lips as he saw Blake approach. Hope blossomed in his chest and he smiled, tears forming at the corner of his eyes. "Bla-"

It was all he managed to say before the man was on him. Calloused fingers wrapped tightly around his throat. Squeezing. Cutting off air flow. 

Marcus choked, eyes wide and mouth slightly parted. A few seconds passed before he came back to himself, feeling those hands, which once held him with such care, tighten even more. "B-Blak-Blake," he gasped, trying to get a breath or air in. He winced, the press of the hand hurting.

Blake didn't seem to acknowledge him. Didn't even seem to recognize him. And Marcus' stomach dropped. Fear, sharp and cold, wrapped it's bony fingers around his rapidly beating heart. His lungs burned as he tried to suck in air, getting only the bare minimum. He reached for Blake's wrist with his hands, nails digging into the tanned skin.

Nothing.

He tried to pull the hand away, but it stayed where it was. Tightening it's hold on his throat. Not letting him breathe. He could feel the edges of his vision graying, becoming hazy.

Panic settled deep in his gut as he tried to pull the hand away. He left raised, red lines on Blake's wrist, but the man didn't stop. Didn't so much as flinch. 

"Let him breathe, but don't let go."

Marcus didn't register the command, or the other person's presence. He audibly sucked in air, hands clutching Blake's wrist. Almost as if to ground himself. 

When his vision was cleared again, he looked up. It couldn't be - but it was. Blake was kneeling in front of him and it was his hand around Marcus' neck. 

"Bl-Blake?" He croaked, tears spilling down his cheeks. "Blake, i-its m-me,M-Marcus. Please. Please s-stop. I l-...I love you." He searched his boyfriend's face, but found nothing. No love. No recognition. No Blake.

"I told you."

This time, Marcus did register the voice. He looked over Blake's shoulder and found Alistor. He was standing in the doorway, watching them both intently. Marcus felt rage burn in his core, angry at the man. But he also felt a deep rooted adoration and love for him. 

"Feelings are a weakness. Love the weakest of them all. It'll be your downfall. Like it was his." 

"Wha-" "Choke him."

Before Marcus could breathe in, Blake's hand squeezed his throat again. Marcus' mouth opened, a silent gasp leaving him as the pressure returned. 

Tears fell faster as he attempted to pull away. To make him let go. Mouth opening and closing as he tried to breathe, but couldn't. His vision was graying again and the panic returned tenfold. 

And then he could breathe again, chest rising and falling heavily as air filled his lungs.

"Le-Let h-h-him go," he stammered, voice rough. 

Alistor didn't even acknowledge what he'd said, just watched him impassively.

"Tell him, Blake, why you're here with me."

"You're my cousin," he said. Marcus squinted at the man, sensing something off with his voice. At least until his mind processed what he'd said.

"Wh-What?! No! Yo- No! Blake! You said he was a stranger!" Marcus couldn't believe this, it had to be fake. Blake had to be under control or this was some sort of illusion. A strong one, but one nonetheless. "This isn't real, none of it. Blake isn't related to a mon- to you! H-He…. He can't b-be….."

"Can't he?" Alistor asked. He stepped forward, head tilted a little to the side. "And why is that, I wonder?"

"B-Because he's better than you! You're evil!"

"And yet, you are related to Kristi. She is in Azkaban for the kidnapping and torture of children. For being evil." He walked slowly toward the pair, circling them. It was almost predatory.

"Th-that's di-different," Marcus whispered, feeling doubt starting to work it's way into his mind. 

Alistor hummed. "My family is the best at potion making, looked up to by everyone…. Doesn't that sound familiar?"

Marcus stayed silent, thinking about it. It did, but he wasn't sure from where. He tried to follow Alistor, only for his eyes to land on Blake. And then.

He gasped sharply, brown eyes wide. "Blake…" he breathed. It couldn't be true, he didn't  _ want _ to believe it. But. But Blake was also a part of the most celebrated potion makers in the wizarding world. The best of the best. It's why Hogwarts gave him the job. Not only were his skills astounding, but his family's reputation helped.

"Choke him."

"N- ack!" Marcus winced when Blake squeezed his throat again. It hurt, more so than the previous times. He tried to breathe, but nothing filled his lungs. 

It didn't take long for the panic to set in, for Marcus to start struggling in Blake's hold. He kicked and scratched, but Blake wouldn't let go. 

He saw dark spots dancing around his vision. His head felt light and wrong. His chest ached. Mind going fuzzy, slowing down.

"Don't stop until he passes out."

Alistor watched as Marcus' struggles died out. His eyelids drooped and his hands slipped uselessly from Blake's wrists. He fell limp against the man, and that's when Blake let go.

Stepping forward, Alistor picked up one of Marcus' arms. Pressing his fingers to his wrist, he felt around for a pulse. A second passed before he felt one and he nodded to himself.

The Slytherin was still alive, good.

"Put him in bed. And then follow me," he commanded, straightening up. He moved out of the way, watching Blake stand up and then carry Marcus to the bed and drop him unceremoniously onto it.

Alistor led the imperiused man back to his room, closing the door once they were both inside. 

Pointing his wand at Blake, he released him from the spell.

The effect was instantaneous. Blake stumbled, clutching his head and groaning. "Wha-" He blinked and shook his head, trying to clear it. "What happened?"

"You were sleepwalking. I simply woke you."

Blake's brows furrowed. He felt like that wasn't quite right. Like something had happened that he couldn't completely remember. 

Alistor was talking, he could hear him, but he ignored the other. He tried to recall something, knowing he'd been reading just moments before. A flash of something, blurry and misty. Marcus… and… and him. He was…. "I… did I hurt Marcus?" He asked, tone soft, but the horror was hard to miss.

Alistor rolled his eyes. "No. I said you were sleepwalking. Now, wake yourself up. We have work to do."

Blake frowned and shook the… the dream? Yeah. He shook the remnants of the nightmare away, nodding at his cousin. "Yeah, I'm fine. Let's go."


	20. Trembling - Day 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trembling - shaking or quivering, typically as a result of anxiety, excitement, or frailty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hallo! I have returnth with my boi Aleksandr! And Abaddon. 
> 
> So, uh, implied rape. Both past and future. Implied forced pregnancy. Implied torture. Captivity. Forced body modification. This is legit not a good relationship yo

He woke up feeling groggy. It was normal by now, really. That and the heavy chains around his wrist and neck. The chill seeping into his naked form from the stone floor. The aches and dull pain from old wounds and new ones. The hunger and thirst.

Abaddon was a force to be reckoned with when he was angry and Alek was beginning to see why he was a prince of Hell. And why he represented wrath in all the books he read.

He felt the little shivers from the cold. His body doing it's best to warm him up. It wouldn't be much use. He'd stay cold unless Abaddon was feeling generous. And he only ever felt like that when he raped him. Which at this point was beginning to become a nearly daily occurrence.

Alek moved to sit up, his chains rattling. He hissed as a dull ache started on his lower back. He couldn't reach behind himself to rub on the sore spot, so he just leaned against the wall and sighed. 

He looked down and frowned, something was off. Different. His hands were…. Smaller? The fingers more slender, but no less calloused. Still scarred. Just, smaller. 

He felt the frown pulling his lips down, the way his brows furrowed from his own confusion. Especially when he looked over to his legs. They were long, slender. Thinner. And while he knew he'd lost weight and muscle mass while being with Abaddon, this was different. This  _ felt _ different. 

His heart sped up, one thought coming to the forefront of his mind. It was silly though. Impossible. That...it couldn't happen. And especially not to him. Abaddon liked him how he was. Human and weak, in comparison with him. Sure, the starvation and thirst made him even more so, but that was mostly the bastard torturing him when he was mad.

Though a small, more visceral part of himself wasn't so sure. It made his breaths come quicker, his heart sped up. 

He raised a trembling hand to his chest and sucked in a sharp breath. His eyes widened as he stared at a wall, slowly moving his hands. Over one lump. Into a dip and then over another one.

"No," he breathed. He could feel as his whole body began to tremble. Not from the cold, but something else. Something more  _ raw _ . 

"I see you found my little gift."

Alek's head whipped up to the pale, red-haired bastard. He glared at him, lips curled into a snarl. "The fuck did you do to me?!" He hissed, rage and fear swirling in his chest.

The way he was trembling didn't help, making him look more afraid than angry. Weak. Just like Abaddon liked him.

The demon smirked, a flash of his fangs peeking out. "Don't you know? I thought it was fairly obvious, pet. I made you into a woman. The epitome of weakness in your pitiful, human society." His smirk widened, sharpened. It stretched across his face and made him seem less than human. Feral.  _ Monstrous _ .

A shiver shot up Alek's spine, indistinguishable from his trembling, but there. Fear pooled in his gut. He could  _ sense _ the lust and possessiveness radiating off of Abaddon in waves. It made him feel sick, dirty. He looked away and attempted to cover himself a little.

"Stop." The command was enough for Alek to pause, half way between sitting and curling up. His heart pounded in his chest and he was so sure it would jump out. 

"I never said you could cover up, did I? Do I need to teach you a lesson again, pet?" 

Without noticing, Alek was slowly shaking his head, cowering under the demon's gaze. 

"Good~"

He could hear how pleased Abaddon was and felt a wave of nausea wash over him. He hated this. Hated how he was being  _ groomed _ into this bastard's perfect little sex toy.

"I turned you into this not just because I wanted you to be truly weak." Alek bit his lip, not wanting to correct him. The women he knew were strong. Even the kindest ones were powerful. People were just stupid.

He kept his mouth shut though, not wanting to anger him by interrupting. "You need to learn your place. And that is with  _ me _ . You are  _ mine _ ."

The way he said mine had Alek looking up. The demon's unnaturally handsome face was twisted into something out of a nightmare. Eyes wide and wild. Smirk showing off sharp, dangerous teeth. Nostrils flared. He was pressed as close as possible to the bars of Alek's cell, and he leaned away instinctively.

Distressingly, Alek also noticed he was looking at his stomach. Swallowing thickly, Alek tried to stay still and not cover up that part of himself.

"You will bare my child. And that is how you will be fully  ** _mine_ ** . Not some  _ stupid, mangy mutt's _ ," Abaddon hissed, smirk transforming into a snarl as he glared down at Alek, fiery orange meeting shocked amber.

"N-No," he whispered. He was trembling noticeably, shaking. Terrified. Turning him into a woman for some stupid sense of power over him was one thing. But doing so to force him to have a child? No. " ** _No!_ ** " Alek yelled, moving further away from the cell bars.

There wasn't much space between him and the wall. He was pressed up as much as he physically could, while also covering as much of his body as possible.

Abaddon's snarl turned into a smirk again. "Oh? And who said  ** _you_ ** have a say in this matter, pet?" He asked, slowly unlocking and opening the cell's door. He stepped in, hungrily watching Alek scramble to the other side of the cell. Well, as far as the shackles allowed  _ her _ to.

"Have you forgotten so soon? I am your  _ MASTER _ and you are  ** _MINE_ ** ." 

And then he lunged.


	21. Laced Drink - Day 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't take drinks from strangers. You'll wake up in strange places.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!  
This is my bab named Jordan! They are genderfluid and a poledancer. They are also part of the same universe as Vincent, but less genetically modified than he is~

They stumbled out of the bar, feeling light headed. Dizzy. So, so tired. But they couldn't sleep, they had to get home. They knew that much. They had to get home and to bed, then everything will be okay. They could sleep whatever was going on off and be fine the next day. Yeah. Good plan.

Instead, they were grabbed by a man. Jordan squinted at him, noting the trench coat and the glasses. "Hi," they slurred, frowning. "D-don't norm, uh, normally t-talk like, um, l-l-like this." They told him, smiling up at the man. He looked vaguely familiar. In fact, Jordan said it out loud, giggling and patting the hand on their arm.

"That's because I am. I came to get you Jordan, let's go home."

Their brows furrowed and they stumbled a few feet when he lead them down the street, away from their home. "No," they said, tugging on their arms and trying to stay still. They were too unbalanced and uncoordinated for it, and instead stumbled a few more steps.

The man stopped though, and Jordan straightened up. Or tried too, they slumped a little.

"Why not? We're friends, right?"

"But…" They groaned, clutching their forehead. They blearily remembered talking to him. And then. "Th-tha-the thing!"

"What thing?" He asked patiently. 

"Do-don't play dumb! That th-thing! The…. The su- um, sugar!"

*Oh, you mean this?" The man pulled out a little white packet. 

"Yes!" Their gaze was on the packet, so they didn't see the malicious grin on his face. Couldn't sense his intent.

"Drugs! You put in my dr-drink!"

"They are. And yes. Makes you feel nice, doesn't it?"

Frowning, they shook their head once, having to stop when they got dizzier. "No… dizzy."

"It's okay, it'll wear off. It's time to go though. It's getting late and you need to get home. Sleep, remember?"

That was right. Jordan had work tomorrow, so they had to sleep early. "Oh… okay," they whispered, nodding once. The world tilted on its axis for a few seconds before it righted itself. "Home pl-please!"

The man chuckled darkly, not that Jordan noticed. They just followed along, stumbling every now and again.

  
  


Some time later, Jordan woke up. They groaned and held their throbbing head. Whatever they had drunk, was rough after. Sitting up, they cracked an eye open and looked around.

The living room was…. Not theirs. In fact, it didn't belong to anyone they knew. Cold washed over them, sinking into their very soul at the realization that they couldn't really remember the previous night. Just bits and pieces. A face, a snippet of a conversation. A little white packet.

"That  _ fucker drugged me! _ " They hissed to themselves.

"Wh-"

  
Hearing the new voice, they looked up and noticed the boy. Man? Young adult. He looked as confused and badly off as they felt. Less annoyed though. And past him was another young adult. With wings. " ** _What the fuck?!_ ** "


	22. Fever - Day 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being sick is never fun...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!  
This has my bab Angela and Sinuzaki's bab, Lan!

Angela groaned as she rolled over in bed. She felt stiff, as if she'd been working out too much. She knew that wasn't the case. The previous day had been a lazy one. At least for her and Lan it was.

"Looks like you're finally waking up, huh?" 

Angela mumbled something, muffled by her pillow. She recognized the voice, and scent. It was Lan and she relaxed further into her bed.

Hearing him chuckle, she hummed softly. 

"I didn't quite catch that, Angie. Speak up," he teased.

Angela could feel as her bed dipped with his weight. She purred softly when he rubbed circles along her back. It felt nice on her muscles, relaxing them. It left her feeling sore almost.

They stayed like that for a while. Lan rubbing her back, moving on to untangle her hair, as she began to doze off again. It was odd how tired she was. And how cold.

"Holy shit, you're burning up!" 

Angela groaned, reaching out of her cocoon of warmth to lazily swipe at Lan. Though he caught her hand, chuckling. "You're so sick you missed me completely."

"M'not sick," she murmured. She did have a headache though, so maybe Lan wasn't wrong. But she wasn't about to admit that.

"Sure, not sick." The hum he got in response had him laughing. Angela did like when he laughed, it was nice. He was nice.

"You're so sick you're saying your own thoughts out loud," Lan said, snorting.

She huffed and burrows herself further into the bed and her covers. "Cold," she murmured. "Stay?"

Lan kissed her hand before letting it go. While she liked the sentiment, she was too cold to leave it outside of her cocoon any longer. "Let me bring you something for that fever, yeah? Maybe even something to eat, how's that sound?" Getting only a soft hum in response, and the vague movement of the covers, Lan laughed. 

"Okay. Get some rest, I'll be back in a bit."

After he left, Angela grumbled softly to herself. She wasn’t sick. She never got sick. She was just really tired is all. Once she slept some more and ate, she was certain that she would feel better. She had shit to do anyway. When she sat up, however, her head began to spin. The room looked like it was tilted too far to the side and she clutched onto her blankets to make sure she didn’t fall. Her eyelids were closed tightly, brows furrowed as she tried to slow her breathing down. 

“F-Fuck,” she whispered, a shiver going through her just then.

“Angie?”

It was Lan. She felt herself relax, reaching out with one arm to try and grab him. To hold onto him. When she felt her hand brush warm skin, she grabbed onto it, a wrist, and tugged him over to her..

“Hey, careful,” he scolded her, laughter in his voice. She pouted, huffing softly. “I’m sick, cuddle me,” she whined.

“Thought you said you weren’t sick?” He teased. Though by the way she felt her bed dip and a solid warmth lean into her side, she knew he had listened to her. She carefully wrapped her arms around him, her eyes still closed.

“I am not, but if I can get cuddles, I am.”

She felt his laughter before she heard it, and she smiled into the soft sleep shirt he was undoubtedly wearing. She grumbled something unintelligible under her breath, but just cuddled closer to him. The kiss on her forehead that he gave her was nice and it appeased her, so much so that she began making a soft, rumbly sound. She was purring.

“...Lan?” Angela asked after a short while.

“Hm?” Lan asked absently, forcing himself to stay awake. Something about her tone was off, it made her seem younger than she actually was. As if she was a kitten instead of a full grown tiger.

“....I… Maybe I am sick,” she croaked. She snuggled closer to him, a soft whine leaving her. “You won’t leave?” she asked, her voice so soft that Lan would have missed it had it not been for his enhanced hearing.

He paused for a few minutes, rubbing slow circles along her back. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be, Kitten,” he whispered. “Get some rest.” he said, kissing her forehead again. She relaxed and, within seconds, had fallen asleep.

Lan frowned when she fell asleep. He didn’t know why she seemed so scared that he’d leave her alone. He knew better than to ask though. She would let him know in her own time. Right now he would stay with her. “I’ll take care of you, Angie. I’ll protect you,” he promised.


	23. Bleeding Out - Day 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's never wise to fight undead alone...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!   
THis features my DnD character Mirrai, a red dragon bloodline sorcerer who is both a noble and a Tiefling! He's a winged variant, so my boi has wings and can fly~
> 
> Also featured is Mirrai's fiance! Zephyr~ He is Ineffible_Nephy's DnD boi~ An aquatic half elf Ranger who used to be a pirate~

Mirrai curled up into a corner of the tomb. He was shivering, his wings wrapped around him and tail coiled around his thigh tightly. His chest was rising and falling too quickly, breaths coming in quick and short puffs. His eyes were wide, a hand outstretched and the other clutched his staff.

Smoke fizzed out of his open palm and the creature, an undead minotaur, stood in the center of the room. Smoke wafted off of it and it didn't move. The only sound Mirrai's breathing. 

And then it fell with a heavy  _ thud _ to the cold, stone floor. It was dead.

Mirrai let out a ragged breath, relief washing over him. He shivered from the feeling, only to hiss. Moving his wings out of the way, he spotted the issue. His clothes, originally a blue colour, were now stained with a deep red. And it was still wet, his injury still bleeding.

He uncurled himself from his spot, hissing again at the pain it caused. But this was important, he had to see how bad it was. To see if he should stay and wait for his friends and fiancé to find him.

Slowly, he pulled up the shirt. It pulled away easily and more blood gushed out of the wound. That was not good.

With a trembling finger, he pressed it to his blood covered skin. Carefully he looked for the corner of the cut, hissing as he found it. Only to follow along the whole length of it.

It was… really big. Mirrai swallowed thickly. If he stood up, he would lose blood quickly. It was likely he would pass out before he found them. And if he stayed, well. He'd bleed out slower. But he'd be alone. With a redead minotaur.

"Z-Zephyr," he whispered, whimpering as he pressed a hand to his wound. It should staunch the flow a little bit. Hopefully. "Please…. Pl-Po lease get h-here quickly…. Ple-Please."

  
  


Some time later, Zephyr entered the small room. He looked around frantically, stepping over the fried minotaur. And once he did, he spotted Mirrai.

He was passed out, pressed up against the wall in one of the room's corners. He went over to him, frowning when he saw how much paler his was. The way his shirt was stained a dark red.

"Mirrai?" He called out as he approached. When he got no response, Zephyr bit his lip. "Please don't be dead, please don't be dead," he whispered to himself, pressing his fingers to Mirrai's pulse. 

He felt a weak fluttering and sighed in relief. "Thank whatever god is watching," he whispered, voice thick with images tears.

Carefully, he weaved magic and cast a few healing spells. He wasn't a cleric, but hopefully it would be enough until he got him to Shabnan. He did feel around the bloodied mess that was his shirt, finding the injury when Mirrai grimaced in his sleep. It was deep, and long. And still open. "Shit," he cursed, chewing his lip as he looked around for some clean clothes or something to tie up the wound.

He then spotted Mirrai's Cape and quickly took that off. He didn't tear it, just folded it and wrapped it tightly around Mirrai's stomach.

"I'm sorry, Mirrai, this is going to hurt," he whispered, leaning down to give him a gentle kiss. 

Carefully, he lifted Mirrai bridal style. The way his face twitched into a grimace was promising. He made his way to the exit, a magic teleportation rune of sorts. He didn't really understand, but if it got him and Mirrai out to safety, that's all that mattered.


	24. Secret Injury - Day 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remember kids, never keep injuries secret...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hallo! I have here my boi Vincent again~ He got hurt, poor bab qwq

The house was quiet as Vincent entered. He paused in the kitchen doorway and tried to listen, not wanting to run into anyone right now. They didn't need to see him and, quite frankly, he was terrified of his housemates finding him.

Things had been nice before the humans had come. Before  _ she _ had arrived. And now…. 

Vincent shifted and pain flared up his side. His wings twitched, curling around him protectively as he leaned heavily against the wall. He bit his lip so as to not make any noise, tears coming to his eyes. 

When it passed, he gasped in a shallow breath, not wanting to irritate his side again. He waited for a few seconds more and, when he heard nothing, continued on his way. Unbeknownst to him, however, he had left a red hand print on the wall and a small puddle of blood by the entrance. More crimson trailed behind him as he slowly made his way through the house. 

Vincent stopped once more when he reached the grand staircase. It lead to the rooms, which was his destination but. Climbing the stairs wasn't going to be easy. And if the other hybrids were in their rooms, they might smell the blood. Unless he hid quickly enough. 

Steeling himself, Vincent clenched his teeth as he took the first step up the stairs. Instantly, pain shot up his side and spread like wildfire to the rest of his body. Quick and merciless. He gripped the rail hard to steady himself, his claws leaving indents in the wood. He didn't wait for the pain to recede, knowing it would just come back. So he took another step that had the pain flaring back up, and slowly made his way up the stairs.

He almost tripped a few times, catching himself on the rail each time. Though it agitated his injury to the point where black spots danced in his vision. Breathing through it helped, but Vincent needed to get to his nest. He needed to hide so he could heal himself with the small medical kit he'd smuggled into his room one day.

Once at the top of the stairs, he was breathing heavily. Each breath sending sharp pain through him.

Once his breathing wasn't causing him pain, he walked over to his room. It was the closest one to the stairs and unlocked. He slipped inside, relief washing over him as he realized he was safe. More or less. 

He made his way to his closet and brought out his medical kit. He tried not to bleed all over his nest. It would mean having to ask for more sheets and pillows and he didn't want to do that. 

He was about to move to his bed when his legs gave out on him. He fell to the floor on his knees, the heavy  _ thud _ seemingly echoing in his room. Dark spots danced across his vision again and he clenched his eyes closed, hands balled into fists as he tried to will them away.

When he opened his eyes, his vision was blurry. No amount of rubbing changed it and.he was getting tired. Too tired. He fell back, sitting on his butt rather than his knees. 

Everything started to tilt to the side and breathing was starting to hurt again. In addition to that, he felt so, so tired. 

He blinked, and when he went to open his eyes again the lids felt far too heavy. They opened though, but it was almost too much to keep them open. To stay awake.

Vincent sat in a daze as the seconds ticked by and he lost more and more blood. His vision graying. Only for the world to tilt sideways again. 

Distantly, he felt himself fall and hit the floor. Heard voices outside his door that weren't there before. They sounded urgent, worried almost. But it was all too far away. And he was so tired. He just needed to rest.

"Mmmnh… K-Kai," he whispered, the image of the snake hybrid coming to mind. Maybe he could ask him for help. But later. Right now he needed to sleep.

Just as Vincent closed his eyes, his door flew open.


End file.
